


Rooted Deep

by Prince_Enby



Series: Hewley Hate Counteraction [5]
Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Angst, Depression, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:48:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23947210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prince_Enby/pseuds/Prince_Enby
Summary: If he was being completely honest, it was always a problem for him.
Series: Hewley Hate Counteraction [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1489505
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	Rooted Deep

**Author's Note:**

> you read the tags. if suicidal thoughts/actions trigger u then u should probably go.

If he was being completely honest, it was always a problem for him. His monstrosity was just the icing on the cake, the straw that broke the camel's back. Before the truth of his birth came out, it was pretty manageable. Sure, he'd have his bad days, but no one ever caught on, so it couldn't have been that bad.

At least, that's what Angeal told himself.

It started when he was little. It had probably been a problem since before then, but the first time the full thought crossed his mind was on Genesis's 13th birthday. He'd never tell a soul, but the class difference between him and his friend. . . He'd never put it against his friend, Gaia no, but jealousy was only human, and he had a lot to be jealous of. 

His Mom raised him right, though, so jealous thoughts never lingered long. What did linger, though, were the feelings of shame and inadequacy that often acquainted jealousy. He tried so, so, so hard to be proud of his family, of his Mom -- but sometimes, sometimes he'd look at Genesis and his home, at his fancy clothes and new toys and private tutors, and then he'd look back at his measly shack, at his ragged, patchy clothes and lack of playthings and books that Genesis had to lend him so that he could learn how to read good because despite how much his Mom loved him she just couldn't afford to send him to school the whole time, and he'd wonder if there was some sort of joke he was missing. He'd wonder why someone like Genesis, the Mayor's son, the richest kid in town, would bother with someone like him. He'd wonder when Genesis would realize just how much he was lowering himself to spend time with someone like Angeal, and give up. He knew, really, that Genesis wasn't that kind of person, and he felt awful thinking of his friend that way.

Still, on nights he had trouble sleeping, he wondered.

He felt so, so guilty on the days he found himself wishing he had even half the money his friend has, when he wished he could've been born in a different family. He felt so, so guilty because that wasn't fair to his Mom, who tried so hard and gave up so much for him. His Mom was an angel, his hero, and whenever he caught himself being ungrateful he beat himself up over it. His Mom deserved a son that would be satisfied and grateful for her efforts, not one that stole apples just because she couldn't afford to give him three meals a day.

On Genesis's 13th birthday, though, he realized he was a worse son than he ever thought imaginable.

It was an important day, obviously. The day he would transition from child to teen, and he'd been looking forward to it for a while. Angeal had been, too. He was excited for his friend! He couldn't wait! The whole town was looking forward to it, with Genesis being the Mayor's son and all. There would be a huge celebration throughout all of Banora -- The Rhapsodoses didn't often pay attention to their son, but they did often flaunt him to the townsfolk. (A fact that Genesis often resented, but just this once he was too excited to care.)

Angeal was so excited, and so, so nervous, because what the hell was he going to get him? For all of his earlier birthdays, Genesis told him not to worry about presents or anything, but they'd always celebrated his birthdays privately before then. This was in front of the entire town! There's no way he could get away with just a card, or, Gaia forbid, nothing!

So, yes, Angeal was very nervous about that. His Mom, bless her heart, took notice, and often tried reassuring him. Genesis was his best friend, he'd never get mad over something like this. There was truth in her words, he knew, but (he thought of the shame, the embarrasment, the fact that this was going to be one of the most important days of his friend's life and he could just imagine the look of disappointment, or worse, the understanding, the pity) just once, he wanted to be something more than the son of a poor widow.

He had no clue what the hell was going through his head when he did it, but Angeal would regret every day for the rest of his life that he stole from his own mother. He normally felt bad enough when he stole from just the neighbor's trees when he needed to eat, so he had no idea how he managed to convince himself to sneak into his Mom's bedroom after dark to rifle through their measly Gil savings. All he knew was that the party was tomorrow, Genesis had been talking nonstop about the new Materia the shop had just gotten, and he still didn't have a present.

The morning after his theft, before his Mom even woke up, Angeal had shot out of the house to wait for the Materia shop to open. As soon on the doors opened he'd ran straight for the display on the front counter, the one that had the new, shiny Fire materia, and traded all of his stolen goods and savings for the magic little orb. The shop owner gave him a curious look, no doubt recognizing him for his poverty, but in the spirit of the day didn't say anything. The little sphere was warm in his hands, and he cradled it carefully as he brought it back to his room, laying it in an admittely cheap and flimsy box. The gift itself would more than make up for it.

Later that day, when the party began and all the townsfolk crowded the streets, he was nearly bouncing in anticipation. He followed Genesis around as he went around enjoying the festivities, and eventually came the time for gifts. He was excited! Finally, he was going to be one of the people that gave things instead of taking them. He ignored the way Genesis looked surprised at him being in the group of gift-givers, brushing off his protests with a "Just open it!" and waiting in eager anticipation.

The look on his friend's face when he took the green materia out was one of pure bliss. No matter how much guilt and regret Angeal had about that day, he fact that he was the one that made his friend so happy would always be something he'd be proud of. He was proud then, too. Proud and relieved and just a little bit smug, because throughout the rest of the party, and the whole month, really, Genesis never lost that bright-eyed look, never stopped showering him in thanks and praises. It was amazing to be the source of so much happiness in his friend.

And then, one week later, he overheard a conversation between his Mom and the grocer. He didn't mean to eavesdrop, and only caught bits and pieces, but what he did hear completely shattered his high.

". . .buying less and less lately, Mrs. Hewley. Everything alright?"

"Fine, it's just. . . I think we had a break-in last week. Only took about half our Gil, though, so. . ."

He didn't stay to hear the rest of it, the gravity of what the hell he'd done hitting him, and he locked himself in his room the rest of the day. It was then that he realized how much his Mom had been frowning since the birthday, how small their meals were, how little she'd been eating. How little he'd been eating. There were few days he found himself completely full, but he'd never been this hungry in a long time. Already, his Mom was looking a bit thinner, staying at work longer, trying to make up for the loss in funds.

Oh, Gaia. What was he thinking?

His Mom sacrificed so much for him on a daily basis, and this is how he repayed her? With shame, embarrasment, and bitterness? With theft? She gave him so much love, and what does he do? He leaves her to starve herself just to feed an ungrateful brat. He was awful. He was terrible. He - He --!

He shouldn't have been born at all.

Twelve years old, guilt-ridden and ashamed beyond belief, that one thought led to another, more horrific thought.

Maybe he should just kill himself.

It would've solved so many problems -- His Mom could use all their money on herself instead of wasting it on him, Genesis wouldn't have to make the choice between his class and his friend, he --

He cut the thought off quick, because he was starting to scare himself. So, he ignored the train of thought he had taken, got a pencil and paper, and decided to plan a route that would let him take as many dumbapples from as many houses in one night, because despite how much he hated stealing at that point, he'd rather think on how he could make this up to his Mom than whatever he was thinking about earlier.

He should've told someone, probably, that he'd considered it at all. He was too scared and ashamed to even think about it, though. 

So he didn't.

So, it probably shouldn't have been as shocking as it was when it became a recurring thought, because now that the idea crossed his mind it just wouldn't leave him alone.

In the dark recesses of the night, he often found himself wondering just how much the planet benefitted from him remaining alive. Thinking, really, how much difference did it matter in the grand scheme of things if he died or not? His Mom would be sad, of course, and so would Genesis, but they'd move on, wouldn't they? Just how big of a deal would it be, really, if he just stopped breathing in the middle of the night? 

It became a bit of an morbid curiousity, almost. Just something to ponder when he was bored. He'd wonder what would happen if he threw himself into that pond on the other side of the orchard. He'd wonder what would happen if he swallowed all of the pills in his Mom's medicine cabinet. He'd wonder what would happen if he snuck one of the kitchen knives into his room. The answer to all those questions was that he'd die, of course, but what then? How much better would the lives of the Banorans be with one less mouth to feed?

He never acted on those thoughts, Gaia no. He knew, logically, just how much he meant to the people that loved him.

Still, though, it persisted.

He got used to it, and he still refused to tell anyone.

(He wanted to, sometimes, though. When he started getting bad days, and it was so hard to find a meaning behind anything he did, when it seemed almost impossible to justify the space he was filling, and he questioned the validity of others' love for him -- He wanted to just lay everything out, to tell his Mom his thoughts and have her tell him it was okay, for Genesis to argue himself out of his self-deprecation. 

He doesn't, though, too ashamed of himself for being so dissatisfied. Too determined to burden his Mom with as little as possible. Too busy trying to help Genesis deal with his own array of problems.

Too honorable to be any bigger of a problem than he already was.)

Joining SOLDIER helped, in a way. The intensity of cadet training often left him too exhausted to humor any thoughts about his place in the world; There was no room left in his head to think about the many ways he could kill himself with whatever was in a room when it was stuffed full of materia theory and tactics. The physical aspect also provided a surprisingly nice distraction -- he found himself enjoying the rhythmic swing of a sword, and whatever built up feelings of aggravation and inadequacy oftentimes were taken out of the training dummies.

It'd been a long time since he last felt so comfortable in his skin. It was nice.

Not to say his problem was completely gone, no, nothing was ever that easy. As time and promotions passed by he got more and more used to the rigid schedules and new responsibilities, and soon enough his mind started wandering. And once again, it latched onto its apparent favorite subject: death.

Once he'd passed that point, he made a rather worrying discovery. While the routine and resposibility of his rank might have helped when it came to considering the futility of his continued existence, the mako injections had the opposite effect. In fact, he'd even go as far as to say that it completely undid whatever progress joining SOLDIER had helped him gain. When fresh mako ran through your veins, there was a period of time in which everything was enhanced tenfold. Sight, sound, sensation, smell, taste -- and while it was true that once the mako was fully absorbed into the body, your senses would level out, Angeal would've liked to have warned that, apparently, emotions were also included on that list. He learned that fact the hard way.

The "hard way" being Genesis finding him sitting in his bathtub with a knife to his wrist.

Thankfully (or unfortunately, depending on when you ask him), his mako-addled mind couldn't tell right from left and cut the wrong damn wrist, but the intent was clear as day. When he finally came down from his mako high, it was to find himself tucked snugly into bed, bandages wrapped around his right hand, with the sound of Genesis crying coming from his living room. To say that he was overcome with guilt was a massive understatement.

When he finally mustered the courage to leave his bedroom, he was a bit shocked to find that Sephiroth was also there. The man in question looked unbelievably uncomfortable, what with Genesis hanging onto him and crying all over him (and the thought that Angeal had managed to scare him enough that he'd called in Sephiroth of all people for comfort almost made him want to finish the job), but he'd yet to move away, and was even giving what he probably thought was a comforting hug, but looked more like he was about to snap the redhead's neck. He didn't have long to take in the strange and oddly heartwarming scene of his friends not at each others' throats for once because as soon as his feet hit hardwood floor, both heads shot up, and suddenly he was the one with an armful of distraught Genesis.

"An-Angeal, you -- I -- you scared the shit out of me, wh --," His friend cried out, frantically alternating between holding onto him and grabbing his face to look it over. It seemed like he could barely speak, tears coming back full force now that Angeal was actually awake and could answer his questions. "What the hell were you -- Y-you could've died, were you trying --?! Why --?!" 

In the end, Angeal just couldn't take the sight of his friend to barely kept together, and pulled him close into a back-breaking embrace. Genesis held him hard enough to leave bruises, and probably did, but he was too focused on rubbing comforting circles into his back and trying to soothe his sobs. In his peripheral, he could see Sephiroth hovering, unsure, and with an unreadable expression.

He didn't know how long it took for Genesis to finally calm down; In fact, he didn't even know how long it had been since he had been caught in the act. As soon as his friend composed himself, though, he found himself sat down and told in no uncertain terms that he would explain himself, and that he would do so promptly and in full. He was reluctant. It had been his dirty little secret for so long, to tell someone about it now...

He was nervous, ashamed, a little scared, and tried very desperately to avoid the subject. Surprisingly, it wasn't Genesis that finally made him relent; Sephiroth had simply given him THAT look, the one he reserved for hysterical troops on the battlefield, and he'd cracked like an egg.

And so he spilled. From start to finish. He told them about the guilt, the shame, the everything that was wrong with him -- haltingly, at first, then gaining momentum as finally, finally he could just let it out. He didn't look at them while he spoke, knowing it'd be futile trying to read Sephiroth and not wanting to see the horror and guilt he just knew Genesis would wear, instead watching the way his hands shook ever so slightly with a sort of detached amusement. By the time he was done, his voice was hoarse and he felt like his insides had been scraped out, leaving him raw and empty. He felt tired, and strangely numb, as if the words had stolen his strength and left a shell of a man in its wake.

He didn't realize he'd been silently crying until, once more, a blur of red collided with him. This time, though, he was the one being held. It was a bit awkward, given the size difference, but in the blink of an eye he found himself held snugly against his friend's chest, a soft stream of "I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry..." in his ear. He was momentarily confused; Normally, he was the one doing the comforting, not the other way around. And what did Genesis have to apologize for, anyway? He didn't get it. He didn't get to question it for long, though, because the longer he stayed in that embrace, the tighter his chest began to feel. Something was squeezing his heart and his lungs, burning his eyes, and making his breath hitch. There was a weight on his back, and while he couldn't muster the strength or energy to turn his head, he just knew it was Sephiroth, and when the solitary weight of a single hand became the encompassing warmth of yet another embrace he just couldn't take it anymore.

(The last time someone else had hugged him, had gone out of their way to make sure he was okay was the day he left for Midgar, when his Mom had pulled him aside and hugged him with the kind of strength that only a distraught mother could. She told him through teary eyes how much she loved him, how proud she was of him, how sure she was that his dream would come true and that she just knew he would be a fine man when he finished growing up.

He almost cried that day, but didn't. 

Even then, when he was the one being held, he had to be strong for her.)

The dam broke.

Later that night, after a whole day of pampering and soft words and comfort and a promise of more just like it, what with the week of leave the others had managed to get him, Angeal found sleep elusive. It wasn't for the usual reasons, though. This time, as he lie in bed, sandwiched between two warm, comforting bodies, he was not kept awake wondering the numerous outcomes of his death. Quite the opposite, in fact; He found himself looking forward to the endless doors of opportunity now open to him.

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally gonna end at modeoheim but i just like this better uwu


End file.
